Caleb's Code-book:
by Sonicscrewdriversinmiddleearth
Summary: This is for one of my most dear friends, Samsquatch67 Ben has homework he should be getting done, given to him by Sackett. But does he even have time to accomplish it when Washington wants an early report? On a snowy day, in the middle of the night, Ben burns the midnight oil, and Caleb gets bored.


**A/N: Well, I would like to start and say that this idea came to mind when Ben was being criticised for not using encryption in season one... and it just kind of went on from there. XD *laughs* I was reading the actual Washington's Spies biography, and the description of Benjamin Tallmadge that it gave was just... endearing. Specifically, "and he had a disconcerting habit of cocking his head like a quizzical beagle." After that, I couldn't get the image out of my head. *laughs*  
Anyways, this was fun to write, and I hope it's not too entirely cheesy. **

**IMPORTANT! This is dedicated to Samsquatch67 as both an early birthday gift, and an early Christmas gift. She is one of the rare people who I know enjoys TURN: Washington's Spies as much as I do, and believe that Ben is just adorable and amazing, and that Caleb is the definition of awesome. XD Thank you for being one of the best friends I could ever have, and I thank you for putting up with me and my insanity, and I thank you for teaching me so many things. God has truly been using you in my life, and I thank Him so much for that. Through you I have learned a new sense of humor -sometimes rather morbid- and your even attitude and massive heart has taught me compassion in ways I didn't even know existed. You helped me through crappy times in my life, by just listening, and by knowing that you understand, has just made me so happy. As I have said so many times, please, do not lose your solemn, gracious, forgiving, kind heart, nor your joy and optimism. I couldn't have had a better friend. You are so dear to me, and this is one of the ways in which I can think to share something that shouldn't be expressible. Happy early Birthday, and early Christmas. I love you so much!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything... this is history, and I am not God. So... *laughs* All rights go to Alexander Rose and... well... God. XD**

* * *

It was almost evening, which was evident by the cold that sidled into the room with a smile, acting like an old, unwanted friend. It went without saying that Ben did not smile back. And yet, the Dragoon guessed, sometimes those friends were refreshing to have around, even if you could only stand them for so long. They gave you a break from the norm, which alone in itself was wonderful.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ben leaned forward and straightened out a small stack of papers, tapping them into place several times. A moment later, he had a neat, parallel stack of cotton-woven parchment. Everything was done, or nearly so, thank the Lord. There were a few small things that needed fixing, such as his work space, ink wells, and a tidying of the small room in general.

 _But,_ Benjamin thought with a sigh, exhaustion drying his eyes, _that will not likely be completed this night._

After Caleb's distractions earlier—the man seemed intent on making his _own_ code book—Ben finally felt he was actually getting something done, even if it had taken _all night_. Said false code-book that Caleb had hastily authored as a joke sat on the desk; it was nestled neatly on top of a few reports. Just a list of names, but it made him laugh—and cringe—whenever he read it. He would have to burn it later; they couldn't risk someone seeing a list of pet names that were strategically arranged like a code book. The young man stood and brushed his hands on his pants, arching his back with a yawn.

Caleb lounged lazily in the corner chair—the structure built specifically so that a tired officer could rest between hours—his hat pulled low over his face, though he was not sleeping. In fact, he seemed to be watching Ben from the corner of his eye, peeking out from beneath the yellowish, broad-brimmed hat. Ben turned and grabbed a small cup, filling it with water.

"Done with homework, Ben?" Caleb asked, amusement in his voice. Ben raised an eyebrow, a yawn cutting off his intended words. He cocked his head to the side.

"Hardly. Sackett has me doing paper work _all the time_. I swear I'm in school again."

It was late, the most obvious sign being the fact that the candles around his desk were the only thing combating the darkness outside. When it registered that Caleb had the only 'bed' in the room, Ben sat back in his chair and lounged, letting out a large sigh. His eyes drooped closed.

Someone entered.

Ben was up in seconds, using the toe of his boot to move his chair back towards the desk. A young, dark haired man in a blue coat with red facings stood to attention and saluted sharply. "Major Tallmadge, Sir, General Washington wishes to speak with you." He saluted again and left.

Ben paused.

Washington wanted to see him? Now?

 _Now?_

In the middle of the night? The young Dragoon straightened his white vest, tilting his head to the side. Wasn't he suppose to report tomorrow night? Obviously not, apparently. Caleb sat up with a yawn, running a hand over his bearded face.

But Ben was already out of the room, snatching a stack of papers and heading off. He heard Caleb following.

"You look like a student who's turnin' in a half finished report," Caleb observed, acting almost as casual as the cold night itself. Ben paused, strides faltering.

"I... do?" he asked. Caleb smiled and nodded. Ben swallowed, lips pursing. "That's essentially what it is, Caleb." He pulled open the door to Washington's office, slipping inside. It was true, the report on the Ring's coding was unfinished, granted Ben assumed he had at least another fifteen hours to work on it. When he found Caleb at his back, the young man's brow furrowed. He was almost positive that Caleb wasn't allowed in with him, but the man entered anyways. And with Caleb, there wasn't much you could do about it. Benjamin stood at attention, back straight and hands by his side; he hadn't brought his coat, he realized with a wince. Washington, who was looking over a letter, turned to them, eyeing Caleb with a furrowed brow. The bearded man simply looked the other direction.

"Ah, Major," he said, putting down his glass of water. "I assume you're nearly finished with reports, and Mr. Sackett's homework." Ben nodded.

Silence.

The General cleared his throat.

"Would you like to show them to me, Major?" Ben winced, flustered. It seemed the later he stayed up the less he was able to function. This was the time of night that normal people would be sound asleep in their tents. After all, it did well for an officer to be alert and prepared for duty.

Idiot.

Ben scrambled through his papers and snatched one from the stack, handing it over to Washington. The General took it with a raised eyebrow, which made a knot tie in Ben's stomach. One piece of paper from the stack... stupid! The young Major resisted the urge to sink into the floor, and, feeling like an imbecile, handed Washington the rest of the stack. But if Washington had been offended, he didn't show it, nor did he show if he was amused. It was the same neutral expression.

Washington began to read, eyes moving back and forth across the paper, muttering something about needing earlier reports and intelligence. He continued reading. Waiting was agony, amplified by the fact that the General was… smiling? Ben wasn't sure a list of numbers and code-names should make someone smile... at least, not a normal person. But no, the expression disappeared. Washington tilted his head to the side in consideration, turning on his heel to begin pacing, raising an eyebrow once or twice. When he was done with the first page, he looked up.

"Major Tallmadge, please inform again, what exactly you were reporting?" He asked, flashing the contents of the paper at them. The lighting made it hard to see, but even as Ben read, he began speaking.

"The latest updates on Culpeper… and Mr. Sackett's work he gave me, and scouting… sir…" Beside him, Caleb's jaw dropped, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. Confused, Ben looked back at the paper, squinting his eyes, and paled. After a moment, Washington cleared his throat.

"Than… pray, tell me—" the next words were said _very_ carefully, as if he wasn't quite comfortable with the phrase, "—Benny Boy." Ben's heart sunk—Caleb's code book. "What would you call this?" The General passed the parchment to him, and he took it with numb fingers; he could scarcely think. The General stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest, and staring expectantly. Lips pursed, Benjamin stood a little straighter, laying the paper on the desk beside him.

"I… don't know… sir."

"Permission to speak, sir?" Caleb asked. Washington shot him a glance.

"Permission denied. Do you take your job seriously, Major?"

"Yes sir, I do." He missed whatever expression Washington had worn seconds ago—Ben was looking at his feet— and felt sick. The General seemed to contemplate this for a moment, and then… smiled. Smiled?

"Major Tallmadge, I want to express to you how important it is that you stay focused and complete your work with the utmost efficiency. And the work you have shown me so far has been extraordinary." The General turned his hard stare to Caleb, relieving Ben from the pressure, and the young man's shoulders slumped slightly. "However, I do not think… letting Caleb Brewster tamper with your work is considered adequate, Major."

Benjamin and Caleb turned, sharing a look over their shoulders, blue eyes meeting brown. The young whaleboat-man grinned at him, and oddly, started _laughing._ It was a few agonizing moments before Ben could form a response—or more truthfully, refrain from responding.

"Come on, Ben, stop looking so terrified," Caleb said with a smile. Benjamin pressed his lips into a thin line, staring at the ceiling with resignation. He didn't look terrified. That was an exaggeration; Caleb was trying to embarrass him again.

However, when he looked back at Washington, the man was smiling in pity, shaking his head in agreement. The young, dark haired Dragoon shot a small glare at them.

"As it was slightly amusing this time Major, this _cannot_ happen again. Even the smallest names like these, if placed in the wrong hands, could compromise everything we work for. Especially when the names are hardly different from our own." The General threw another sharp look at Caleb, who forced his gaze to the floor. "Like…" Washington rolled his eyes to heaven. "Georgy…" A _very_ small flush of red crept up his face. "Dispose of it."

With a quick nod and barely a smile, Ben saluted, snatching the false codelist and crumpling it before tossing it in the fire. He had never felt such embarrassment and relief at the same time —except maybe once in college, but that was a story for another time.

Washington picked up his glass of water again and took a sip. From over the rim of his glass, he spoke, "you are dismissed."

The two soldiers headed for the exit, Ben sighing again, hands clenching at his sides. When he looked over at Caleb, the bearded man was smiling again.

 _I am such an idiot,_ he thought miserably, trying his hardest to ignore the sudden laughter coming from Washington's office, and some choice words that sounded far too much like Ben's pet-name on that coding list. It was a week that he was doomed to never live down.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, it is drawing near to Christmas and Thanksgiving, guys! SO HAVE A WONDERFUL NOVEMBER! I think my cranberry sauce is burning.**

 **SSD~**


End file.
